The Wardens and The Boy

Banging, metal noises slammered against the thick bricks covering the walls of the twisting, winding staircase. Steep steps ran around the center pillar, its grey unadorned stone persisting against the whistling winds rustling around in the narrow spiral. The slamming noises grew ever closer, the sound bouncing from wall to wall, like a blacksmith striking their hammer on a piece of heated metal. 

A faint dripping noise could be heard in between the deafening crashes, as if there was water dripping down from somewhere, slowly withering the mighty stone. On the walls rested, with even space in between, torches, suspended in black iron hinges and blessing the otherwise dark stairs with their light. 

Passing by a torch, a shadow lurked down the stairs, a ball chained to its ankle being the origin of the banging noises. The shadow portrayed a hunched back figure, its vertebrates protruding up in an arch. As the figure barely contained itself from stumbling down the uncomfortably large steps, it soon made its way into the light of a nearby torch. 

Draping over the lowered head was a pitch black cloak, so dark that if it were any darker the figure would completely melt into the darkness between the light. Through the shade of the cloak, two dots of white glowed dimly and a crooked tip of a nose broke the veil of shadows. 

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The sound of a hatch sliding into place echoed throughout a cramp, dark chamber. The Warden drifted over the stone floor, the chained ball creating a shrill, crying noise, a boring wooden door closing behind him. Before him, a torch lit up the way, held in the air by an unknown force. 

Casting its light on the walls, the torch illuminated the many, latticed rooms. Shying away from the sudden illumination was multiple figures, scrambling over the cold floor with nothing but skin to protect them from the stone. 

Somehow, the cells were even more cramp than the chamber itself, not more than a meter in width and housing several individuals. Anyone, with or without claustrophobia would definitely be distressed to the point of losing their sanity, not to mention the lack of food and water. But, maybe that was the purpose... after all. 

Coming to a stop, the sound of The Warden's leather clad feet sliding across the stone floor drifting through the sultry air for just a moment, before it too died down together with the crying sound of the metal ball. In front, a solid piece of iron sat lodged into the wall, a small hole the only thing noticeable on its shimmering, grey surface. 

With a rustling sound, a keychain broke free from the inner pieces of The Wardens' cloak, slowly approaching the door. Rattling noises tore the silence apart as the keys on the chain shifted positions, letting all but one descend to the lower part of the ring. Left on top, suspended by the same force holding the torch, was an oblong, copper cylinder. 

Standing eerily still, The Warden, in silence, watched as the key entered the keyhole, its size the apparent perfect fit. With a clang, the door shook slightly before sinking down through the floor, a corridor laid bare behind. 

Again, the screeching sound of metal scraping against stone ascended the air as The Warden started moving, passing through the opened gate. After a while, a push of air rustled the lower part of the cloak, a bang following suit. The door had closed. 

The darkness was so thick, that the torch's light barely pushed it more than a foot back. Heavy steps was the only testimony besides the light that there were a soul traveling the narrow space, the sound of the metal ball completely swallowed by the encroaching shadows. 

For a while, the light bounced up and down in unison with its hulking master's tired steps. When the torch had almost burned up completely, The Warden exited the corridor, entering a new room. This one too was the domain of the shadows, darkness conquering every inch of the cavern. Differing from the chamber with the cells, this room was wide and round with high ceiling and smooth walls. 

In the middle, a pit lay excavated, evidently made by an individual. The Warden stopped at the edge of the pit, the torch suddenly blossoming into a crescendo of flames before shrinking together to form an orb of pure fire. Descending, the orb sunk into the dark abyss, pushing the shadows aside. 

Whimpering noises rose from the bottom of the pit as the orb shed its light over the being imprisoned there. Scrambling with hands and feet, the woman crawled to the wall, pushing her back towards the solid, freezing stone. Dressed in nothing but plain, brown and torn rags the woman stared at the levitating orb of fire, fear and anxiety almost shining brighter than the source of light before her. 

Torn apart skin and grey flesh hung from her hands and feet and paired with green, infectious and festering wounds it made up a gruesome appearance. Patches of hair was missing from the woman's scalp, the dark brown curtain uneven and messy. Her limbs were as pale as snow and as thin as early winter ice with bones protruding from anywhere the orb shone upon. 

She hissed whilst trying to practically push her way through the wall to her back. The Warden stood in silence above, watching the scenario unfold like a scientist watching its guinea pig. Suddenly, The Warden tilted forwards, falling off the edge. With a whistle, The Warden fell fast, the heavy metal ball keeping his body upright. 

With a very loud crash, The Warden landed, collapsing to a knee, or what must be a knee, though the shadows of its cloak not allowing anyone to see. Around it, a crater spread out in a circle, the metal ball in the center. Rising, its height not changing much, the back seemingly more hunched than before, The Warden dragged its feet towards the hulking woman. 

Soft cries escaped the malnutritioned human, trembles causing her whole body to shiver, bones visibly shaking. Slowing down, The Warden came to a halt right before the woman, the orb of fire hanging above them and illuminating the pair like a spotlight illuminating two dancers. 

At this range, one could easily spot the fact that the woman was pregnant, and far into it as well. How the baby had survived the extreme lack of nutritions, nobody knew, except maybe The Warden. 

Silently, a knife appeared from beneath the cloak. It reflected the light from the orb quite beautifully, its steel hue shining in orange. Despite the harrowing effects the weapon could cause, one could not avoid admiring the alluring design. But the woman did not admire it, not at all. Instead, she hissed, the cries turning into vicious snarls as the knife lurked closer, slowly. 

Fear radiated from her eyes like two bonfires in a winter night, her hands stretched towards The Warden and the knife. Her nails were bitten, chewed and torn off, red flesh alternating with green in a terrifying artwork. Her legs sprawled beneath her as she scrambled to her feet, putting as much space between herself and the danger in front. 

She growled, black teeth clenched into a nasty wall in her mouth, dark blood dripping from the cracked lips. With a shout, the woman dashed for the approaching Warden, one hand stretched in front aiming for the lowered head of the hunchback before her. 

Swiftly, The Warden responded with sending her into the wall, using the force he could magically wield to slam her against the stone. A vicious growl came from beneath the hood as The Warden strolled forwards, the metal ball filling the air with screeching, ear-bleeding noise. 

Scratching the wall, the woman's remaining nails tore off, blood splattering across the rough stone. Locked in place, she could only growl, snarl and scream as The Warden loomed closer, and the knife with it. 

Tears streamed down over the woman's face, dripping on the floor beneath and blending with the flowing blood. The Warden let the knife caress the woman's cheek, the flat catching some of the tears. The growls and snarls turned into whimpers as the knife kissed her neck, the edge cutting a thin line across the throat, more blood exiting her body. 

With a rasping cackle, The Warden had the knife slice the remaining pieces of cloth covering the woman's body. It slowly drifted to the floor, its absence revealing more of the severely malnutritioned and dehydrated body: The ribs were sickeningly evident, her breasts hanging and dried out, basically lifeless pieces of skin. 

The woman turned and twisted, fighting for her life in a struggle to break free from the magical handcuffs, but to no avail. 

Seemingly snapping back to reality, The Warden stopped his admiration and placed the knife at the lower part of the woman's pregnant belly. With a second, grueling cackle The Warden's force pushed the knife inwards and then lengthwise, completely opening the belly. 

Blood flowed outwards in floods, bodyfluids accompanying it. Slowly, and surprisingly carefully The Warden guided his force to dislodge the baby from the womb, taking it out for the dark cavern to see. 

The shrill shrieks of the newborn embraced the still air of the deep pit, its mother clinging to her life, blood exiting her body in litres. The baby, a boy, flew through the air towards the suspended ball of fire, coming to a stop right beneath it. 

Having turned around with the boy, The Warden soon turned back to the hanging woman. Releasing her from the wall, The Warden lifted her through the air, it following suit. Stopping above the ball of fire, The Warden turned the woman so that her back was against it. 

With a slow movement, The Warden had the knife enter at the top of the woman's spine, letting it run down along it, the edge cutting the bone like a hot knife through butter. Screams filled the chamber as the knife slid out right above her bottom.

Cries of agony paired with heaving breaths of pain escaped the woman as The Warden took a hold of the sliced open sides. With a jerk, it folded the shoulders outwards, the ribs cracking and popping as they got pulled together with the shoulders to extend like an angel's wings. 

The Warden then pulled her lungs out, a suffocating sound stifling the woman's cries as her source of oxygen got taken away. One after the other, The Warden placed the lungs on top of the pulled out ribs, crowning his gory artwork. 

Drifting backwards, it watched as the intestines lost their integrity under the influence of his force only to fall out from the split open back, hitting the flaming ball beneath. Terrifyingly nasty, sizzling noises filled the air as The Warden looked up at the now crowded edge. 

Standing shoulder to shoulder, tens of hunchbacks lined up to watch the spectacle unfold: The blood eagled woman dangling in the air, illuminated beneath by the orb of fire like a gallery canvas. With what looked like a bow, the hunchback in the pit had the baby float upwards, the orb close behind. 

Rasping, insidious laughter rang and echoed in the crowded chamber, the many hunchbacks marveling at the sight of the unscatched baby. The boy and its protector rose to the edge, passing through the crowd and entering the shadowy passage. Following suit was The Wardens and their chained balls of metal, the banging and screeching creating a cacophony of grueling sounds similar to dying dogs and forks scraping against plates. 

Left behind, a woman hung in the air with her stomach disemboweled and her back flayed open to resemble an eagles wings, albeit drenched in blood. From her right eye, a single, pure teardrop left the sulking head and fell to the floor far beneath, splattering against the floor like so much of her blood had done.